Fireborn
by A Once Told Story
Summary: A mysterious caravan pulls into the Blue Mountains, wreaking havoc. But as they leave, several dwarves go missing - including Kíli. Along with the young blacksmith Elir, Fíli sets out to find and rescue his brother, and Thorin is not far behind. But there's more to the kidnappings than they know, and the extermination of the entire Dwarf race may not be far away...
1. Prologue

**PART ONE**

CHASE

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**Prologue**

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_For the first time in his young life the sensation of arched wood, beautifully carved and oiled, only felt wrong. His fingers found the thin, tense string, nocking an arrow in place, but he could not make himself draw it. He'd been given his target, and it wasn't a particularly challenging one. But as unwilling as his muscles were to lift the bow and give in to the order he'd been posed with, it could very well have been a living target. It could as well have been a dwarf standing there, someone of his own kin, chained to the wall only a few yards away instead of that circular wooded board with its painted circles. Should Kíli release an arrow and show his onlookers the skill he possessed, the consequences would be the same._

_He would never kill for these people, nor show them how to do what they intended to do. He was a Durin, a proud heir of an honorable name and heritage. He wouldn't be broken so easily. His race would not be disparaged by his actions. Kíli's vision sank from the intended target and the arrow fell from the bow._

_His hesitance did not go unnoticed by his captor._

_A sound so deafening it scrambled his thoughts echoed through the chambers, quickly followed by a white-hot pain radiating from his lower back. Kíli's vision blurred as he sank to his knees, the bow falling from his grip onto the sandy ground. Tears sprang from his eyes although he fought to keep them back._

_"You're an archer, Dwarf!"_

_The words were barely audible over the thumping of pain in Kíli's ears, but he knew better self-preservation than to give his captor another reason to gash his already shredded back with the spoked whip. He forced himself to look up into the penetrating eyes of the Human. He avoided looking at the small spots of red staining the rolled up whip._

_"On your feet and show them what you can do," the Human commanded, then her tone changed into an appalling whisper. "You'll regret it if you don't."_

_Kíli grunted, but he didn't doubt that she was telling the truth. He'd spent enough time here, seen enough terror and bloodshed and cold-blooded torture to know that these Slavers would not think twice about mutilating him should he become more trouble than he was worth. Still, he was strong, or at least he wanted to think he was. He'd withstood their abuse up until now. He wished he could throw a daring comment at the Slaver, but his throat was still too sore to speak. Instead, he spat in his captor's face, and glared into them hateful eyes as imperturbably as he could manage._

_The Human never even flinched at the repulsive action. Instead something lit up in the piercing gaze. "So, that's how you like to play, huh? Fine."_

_Kíli's hands were awkwardly tied behind his back and he was lifted up by the ropes so that his arms were bent the wrong way. It hurt so bad, but not a sound could escape his lips. he wouldn't give them that pleasure. As they carried him out of the chambers he prepared for the worst. He thought of all the pride he'd learned from his uncle, the kindness and love he'd known from his mother. He thought of his brother, of Fíli, who he could only hope was still out there somewhere, alive and looking for him. He'd be strong for them, and for his entire people. They would never break him…_

_… or so he hoped._

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**UPDATED: 7/5/2013 (re-writing published chapters: prologue to chapter 3)**

**So, here's the updated, re-written prologue. There aren't very many changes made to the prologue, just the ending. I hope you like it - I'm pleased with it! Just a friendly reminder that this story is NOT A SLASH! Respect to all who ship Fíli/Kíli, but no Durincest here, only powerful ****brotherly love and lots of angst and drama.**

**Please, review! I see great value in knowing your opinions on my work! :)**


	2. The Arrow

**PART ONE**

CHASE

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**The Arrow**

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"Very good, Fíli!" chuckled Kíli from ten yards away, looking down with a shocked, yet amused grin at the arrow sticking out of the ground just two feet from where he stood. "Now, would you like to try and hit the target instead of your brother?"

In resignation, Fíli dropped Kíli's hand-made practice bow into the grass and shifted his weight to his uninjured leg. The position required for the aim to be steady was killing his hurt ankle. He sank onto the ground and stretched out the hurting limp in front of him. A grunt escaped him as he pulled off his right boot, which barely fit because of the bandages that Óin so dutifully had found necessary when he'd deemed Fíli ready to leave the house that same morning.

Within a matter of seconds, Kíli's short frame was blocking the beaming sunlight from in front of Fíli. The younger knelt down to check on the hurt ankle, blinding his brother as the sun reappeared over his shoulder.

"Does it hurt that bad?" Kíli asked worriedly, his dark eyes demanding an honest answer from his brother. "Maybe we should let Óin ta-"

"No," interrupted Fíli, shaking his head. "I'm fine, it's just… so hot out here."

Kíli smiled brightly. In comparison to his own loose leggings and already sweat-soaked tank, his older brother had chosen boots and a long-sleeved linen shirt for their day out in the woods. Maybe, after the week Fíli had been forced to spend indoors, he had forgotten just how hot an early autumn it was. Although Kíli had spent most of his time keeping his imprisoned brother company, their mother Dís had sent him on errands on purpose just to get him to go outside.

For a minute they just sat there, Fíli enjoying the chilling sensation brought to his injury by the ground below, Kíli pulling grass while soft summer winds blew dark strands of hair into his face. Fíli could feel the breeze tickle in the blond stubble that had just begun to grow on his lip and chin. Fíli had longed for this freedom, but Kíli was restless. Soon he rose to his feet, fetched the bow and arrow and held them out for his brother.

"Come on," he smiled. "I know you can do it."

Blue eyes met brown ones and Fíli knew he couldn't say no. Teaching him archery had been Kíli's idea, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the challenge it posed. He pulled on his right boot again. Suddenly determined that he, too, could hit the target at least once, Fíli took the weapons and stood up unsteadily. He wouldn't let his balance falter as he nocked the arrow into the bow as Kíli had shown him and positioned himself properly. As soon as the weight landed on his right foot in that particular angle, pain shot up his leg, but he did not waver. Fíli drew the bow, aimed it upwards as his brother had instructed, locked his gaze onto the target and…

An animalistic roar too close for his liking startled him in the exact moment the arrow was released, sending it way off course into the woods to his right. Kíli barely dodged the arrow which graced his temple as it flew by, instinctively putting his hand to the small cut it left on his forehead. Fíli threw the bow aside instantly when realizing what he'd done, but before he could check on the wound another sound echoed through the trees. This time it sounded like the neighing of a terrified horse, soon followed by a crash and a scream. Both brothers listened intently and, sure enough, they could make out a voice. Or two, to be exact. Over the rustling of the leaves, the brothers' youthful ears could make out two different voices, one much deeper than the other, talking aggressively to one another.

Unconsciously, Fíli's eyes went to his brother's face, a big brother's instincts wanting to know whether the younger was all right, but the look that met his was saying something else. Neither brother needed words to know what the other thought of in such moments, and Fíli shared Kíli's obvious curiosity for the voices and whoever they belonged to. Without warning, Kíli sprinted off across the clearing. After picking up the bow and arrow again, Fíli followed him through the forest, aware not to overwork his ankle, but was stopped abruptly not far into it. Kíli sat hunched behind a rock, its dark moss blending perfectly with his raven hair, and spied ahead. Fíli followed his example, and was not late to notice what his brother was watching. Not many yards in front of them was a forest road, and as far as they saw it stretch, it was packed with wagons of all shapes and sizes, pulled by horses all ridden by Men.

"There must be a hundred of them," noted Kíli in a voice that was for Fíli's ears only. Then he pointed towards the front of the wagon train. "I think that's our fault."

It took a while for Fíli to figure out what his brother meant. The small wagon in the very front had been tipped over, spilling loads of fruit and small boxes onto the road. While five Men tried to push the wagon back up, a scrawny Man with a commander's bearing cared for and talked comfortingly to a horse that looked ready to gallop away anytime, obviously scared. The brother's recognized the voice that they'd heard earlier, and it wasn't long before they had a face to the second voice as well. A muscular Man that stood at least twice as tall as the young Dwarves, was yelling at the scrawny Man, pacing heavily amongst the spilled out fruit, holding a very familiar arrow in his hand. Fíli felt a sting of guilt. He'd fired that arrow.

"Arrows don't come flying out of nowhere! I'm going to find whoever's responsible," the muscular one growled and strode in the direction of the arrow's launch, oblivious to the hiding Dwarves.

There was nowhere to run that they wouldn't be spotted, and neither brother felt like they could disgrace themselves by running from their actions. Together, they rose from behind the rock and startled the muscular Man. His stopping caught the attention of the other Men as well.

"What do we have here?" the muscular muttered, eying the dwarves so intensively that it made them uncomfortable. "Dwarves, are you? You're barely tall enough to be halflings."

The insult did not pass unnoticed, but Fíli controlled his emotions and willed Kíli to do the same. If they were friendly and apologized maturely, hopefully the Man would soften a bit. But his hopes were tore down the second they were built up when the Man laid eyes on the bow in Fíli's hand. His bulky face turned red with fury.

"Did you shoot the arrow that frightened my horse, you filthy..!" he bellowed and took a menacing step towards the blond dwarf.

Fíli flinched as the Man towered over him, and he felt how Kíli's body moved a little further in front of him, as to protect his brother. But no attack came, as the scrawny Man appeared beside the muscular one and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, now, Beidon, we must be polite with our hosts," said the scrawny Man and placed himself between the one called Beidon and the Dwarves.

Kíli had yet to put his guard down, and didn't relax his stance before Beidon had snorted at them and gone back to the wagon. He decided immediately that he didn't like the muscular Man, and wondered whether he was that way all the time or only when he was upset. Kíli's thoughts were interrupted when the scrawny Man spoke again.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," he said, offering both Dwarves his hand. They shook it politely although the greeting form was unusual to them. "My name is Ric. Am I to believe that it was your misplaced arrow that caused this unfortunate accident?"

Fíli showed the bow to Ric. "It was me. It was a mistake, it wasn't meant to fly that way. I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, young Dwarf. May I ask your names?"

Fíli was greatly relieved by the friendly ways of Ric, and bowed respectfully. Kíli repeated the action. "I'm Fíli and this is my younger brother Kíli," he introduced them, ignoring the quick look from his brother at the mentioning of the years between them.

"Pleased to meet you," Ric smiled. "Now, we seem to have lost our way. We're looking for a place to set up camp. You wouldn't know the way to the city of Men and Dwarves called Ewardor, would you?"

The brothers lit up at the mentioning of their home city. "Yes, that's our home," said Fíli enthusiastically. "It's not far, no more than an hour's walk. There's a field just outside the city where travelers can stay. We could take you there."

Ric nodded approvingly. "Perfect! You may show us there, if you would be so kind."

Ric went back to the road where the Men and Beidon were just putting the last of the boxes back in the now upright wagon. As the muscular Man strapped the wagon back behind his horse, Kíli watched him. They seemed heavy, the wagons, by the looks of the deep tracks they left. Some of them were living wagons, some only small supply wagons and carriages. But some were big, with barred windows covered from the inside. Before Kíli knew he had started to stare, the giant Man turned and met Kíli's curious, chocolate gaze with his own green ones. Kíli may have suspected nothing if it weren't for the pure, suspicious disgust in Beidon's eyes as he looked upon the young dwarf. It was like he had caught Kíli looking at something secret, something he was not supposed to see. Kíli felt utterly small all of a sudden, and it was not because of his size. Under the Man's gaze he felt like no more than mud to be trampled down under a hundred hooves and boots. To Beidon, he and his brother really were no more than just that, and deep down Kíli felt like they should watch their backs as long as Beidon was around.

When everything was back in order, Ric sat up in the saddle of his own horse, and animal much bigger than the ponies the Dwarves were used to riding, and signaled for the caravan to start moving again. Fíli and Kíli walked beside him in the front of the wagon train, with Beidon not far behind them. Fíli did not need to look at his brother to know he was anxious. The younger was constantly peeking backwards, and as soon as Beidon met his gaze, Kíli quickly looked the other way. At first Fíli did not understand why, until he, too, started looking behind his back. It wasn't hard to notice the deprecatory gazes from not only Beidon, but some of the other travelers as well, that soon started to burn in Fíli's back. They did not want the Dwarf brothers there, that much was clear. Still, Ric seemed to have nothing against Fíli and Kíli. Ric merrily questioned them about their home village and the people in it. He asked about the Dwarf forges, the legendary toy-makers of the Blue Mountains and other stuff he found interesting. As long as they talked, Fíli could ignore Beidon and the others.

The sun had just started its decent behind the distant parts of the Blue Mountains when the first wagons pulled into the selvages of Ewardor. Their presence was already causing a disturbance in the normally peaceful society. Fíli and Kíli watched as their neighbors and acquaintances whispered in wonder as they passed by their homes. The occasional mother called her children back when they ran to settle their curiosities, and the brothers could only wonder if their mother, Dís, would do the same with them would they have been a few decades younger.

When they arrived at the vast, grassy plain where travelers of all times had been allowed to stay, Ric seemed very pleased. As Fíli and Kíli watched impressed, he guided the Men with wagons to line up with accustomed ease. Within minutes only, a big camp was beginning to form on the field between the woods and the mountains, with fires and tents and a temporary pasture for the horses.

Since their help wasn't needed anymore, Fíli and Kíli walked over to Ric when he came down from the saddle and bowed once more.

"You seem to feel right at home here," said Fíli with a smile, looking around. "If there's anything you need-"

"Do not worry about it, master Fíli," said Ric, returning the smile. "You have done us great honor in showing us the way. We're thankful."

They said their goodbyes and the brothers were just leaving the camp when a movement on their right caught Kíli's attention. He stopped, looked closer into the shadows between two wagons and found himself staring into the most wonderful pair of eyes he'd ever seen - a dark cerulean shade, glistening in the last rays of sunlight. The face around them smiled slightly at him when their eyes met, but Kíli could make out no emotion. Kíli tensed under the gaze, penetrating his body with unbelievable power.

Fíli had stopped as well, but before he could lay eyes on what Kíli had seen, the piercing pair of eyes vanished into the shadows.

"What is it?" asked Fíli looking over his brother's shoulder.

Kíli's muscles relaxed and he let out a small breath as he turned around. "It's nothing. I thought I saw something. Let's go home."

They left the camp behind them as they walked towards their home just inside the city walls. Although they talked and laughed as they usually did, Kíli could not stop thinking of the blue eyes he'd seen.

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**UPDATED/RE-WRITTEN: 7/5/2013**

**So, here's the second version of the first chapter, which basically puts chapters 1 and 2 from the previous version together into one. While re-writing I seem to have mdd quite a few more drastic changes than I intended, but this turned out much better than the first version.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think! :D**


	3. The Newcomers

**PART ONE**

CHASE

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**The Newcomers**

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Kíli held the arrow steady in line with his eyes, relaxing his shoulders just slightly to get the perfect angle without loosing focus on where he wanted it to hit. The sun shone so brightly into his face from where it stood low in the sky that it hurt his eyes, but it was part of the exercise. If he could barely make out the intended target - a thin pole in the fence surrounding his garden - he'd have to rely on instinct and measurement. He'd tried this before, but never had he released the perfectly aimed arrow, not at this distance. Today he took his time, determining where the pole was by looking at other objects in the corners of his eyes while the sun blinded him from the front. Taking a deep breath and tilting the bow just slightly in favor of the breeze, he relaxed his fingers and let the arrow fly.

His lips formed a big smile at the sound of metal hitting wood. It took a while for Kíli's eyes to adjust as he shadowed his face with his hand, but as the glowing spots of sunlight faded from his field of vision, he could see the arrow sitting on the very edge of the pole. That's as close to perfect as he could hope for at this time.

A voice came from his right, startling him since he didn't recognize it. "That is very impressive."

Kíli turned in its direction, stunned for the moment by this unexpected company. The voice was sharp as a blade but yet nice and friendly. The face to which it belonged - tanned and round with blushed cheeks - seemed familiar to Kíli as this Human female slowly came towards him. She was still looking at the pole with the arrow, the breeze blowing in the short ponytail of curly, chestnut hair, but when she turned to face Kíli he realized who this woman was.

He hadn't forgotten the penetrating blue eyes from the camp three days ago.

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" she asked. "I've never heard of Dwarf archers before."

There was a barely audible undertone of suspicion on her voice which Kíli completely ignored since it was followed by a smile. She sat down in the grass next to Kíli so that her eyes were on level with his chest. She was tall, even taller than most Men Kíli knew, and dressed like no woman he'd ever met. He was so busy taking in her appearance that he failed to realize her sudden arrival had muted him.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, almost as if she wasn't sure the young Dwarf could understand her.

"Kíli," he said plainly, still lost in her wondrous eyes, beautiful as only the Arkenstone in his wildest imaginations. "My name's Kíli."

"Alright, Kíli, my name is Dariah."

Kíli didn't like the fact that she was talking to him like an adult would address a young child. Although Kíli had yet to learn about the lifespans of Men, he realized when thinking about it that this woman probably was a lot older than him in maturity. He straightened himself and removed the surprised frown from his face and instead returned Dariah's smile.

"I saw you at the travelers' camp," he said, the only thing that came to his mind to say.

"And I saw you and your friend. I guess it was he who fired the arrow onto the road in the woods. You wouldn't make a mistake like that, would you?"

Kíli wasn't entirely convinced if he should take her words as a compliment or an insult towards his brother. The woman's eyes, however, were too hard to read. It was almost as if they were reading _him_. As she scanned his features, he took off his archer's gloves and pretended to be busy inspecting his bow.

"What are you doing here?" He tried to sound as polite as he could, but he really wanted to know.

"Oh, I passed by on my way to the market. I saw you practicing. I've always wanted to learn how to shoot a bow."

She looked away with an innocent smile, her cheeks blushing. Kíli could feel his whole being soften at the sight of her, almost as if, suddenly, they weren't strangers anymore. She was not one of the travelers who had thrown death glares at him and his brother, thought Kíli. Dariah seemed nice. And although he tried to ignore it, it made him feel proud to be the one with more skill for a change.

"I could show you," he smiled happily.

Dariah looked up again, eyes now shimmering with energy. She was immediately back on her feet, her full height catching Kíli off guard. She reminded him of Beidon - not a very pleasant thought - although much skinnier and way more beautiful. She took the bow and held it up, pulling the string with strong arms as far back as she dared. The weapon was not crafted for anyone much bigger then Kíli, but if she wanted to try it, Kíli would let her. At least this was only his hand-made training bow. He only took out his professional bow when leaving Ewardor on hunting trips or when training with Balin, the only other Dwarf in all of Ewardor with any earlier knowledge of archery whatsoever.

Kíli watched as Dariah tried aiming the unloaded bow, releasing the empty string to try it out. Kíli noticed her stance, and kicked lightly at her left foot with his own. "Move that one further back, you'll be steadier."

She glanced down at him and tried to copy the leg position that Kíli was now showing her. He gave a well intentioned laughter when Dariah nocked the first arrow into the bow and her shoulders were raised to her cheeks. he had fun trying to reach up to them to show exactly how to hold the drawn bow.

"You are good at giving instructions," Dariah noted, focused on inspecting every inch of the small bow after giving up on trying to hold it correctly when drawn. "Do you teach archery?"

"Only to you, now, and sometimes to my-"

Kíli was interrupted as the familiar voice of his brother called his name from the garden. "Kíli! Supper!"

No more needed to be said - Kíli was starving. He was given back the bow and two arrows from Dariah, who was looking towards where Fíli had just been with keen eyes and a plain expression. Kíli figured she'd enjoyed the archery lesson and didn't like that they'd been interrupted. He, too, wished that they could continue, but his stomach was telling him otherwise.

"We could continue this some other time, if you'd like?" he offered encouragingly.

"Yes," Dariah mumbled, still looking towards the garden, then turned back to face Kíli with a bright smile. "I'd like that very much."

Then she turned and walked back towards the road from where'd she'd come. Kíli watched her for a moment, thinking of calling goodbye after her, but chose not to. He retrieved the arrow that sat in the pole, jumped over the fence into the garden and ran for the front door to the house. From the outside it was a small house, built against the rocky hills leading up to the city market. It was painted in colors of nature, matching the big garden in front of it. The house had been expanded over the years when Kíli and his brother had grown too old to share room. Two more rooms had been hacked into the hill - one was Fíli's and one was their uncle Thorin's.

When Kíli stepped inside the door into the hallway, the smell of food hit him in the face, intensifying his stomach's growling. He threw off his boots and left the bow and arrows in the corner. Dís wouldn't want him to put them there, but he told himself he'd remove them later. In the dining room the table was already set with one of the delicious suppers that was an old speciality of Dís'. The scent of steaks and turnip sauce overwhelmed Kíli as he sat down next to his brother, across from the empty chair where Thorin would soon occupy.

"You took your sweet time," noted Fíli and reached over Kíli's plate for a loaf of bread. Kíli pushed his arm away jokingly, almost spilling out his own glass of water in the process. "Who was that lady?"

Fíli's choice of words caught Thorin's attention. He glanced expectantly at his youngest nephew under dark, bushy eyebrows. Last he'd seen Kíli an hour ago he'd been all alone outside the garden.

"Her name's Dariah. She saw me practicing from the road. She's from the caravan."

In an instant, Thorin's happy mood was blown out like a candle and he frowned. "The caravan," he repeated and snorted. "You shouldn't hang around those people too much."

"What about it?" asked Kíli, not intending to sound so cocky. But he couldn't help but take offense at Thorin's remark.

His eyes locked with his uncle's while Fíli watched awkwardly from the side. There was a moment of silence in which Dís came into the dining room with the last bowls of onions and mushrooms, immediately noticing the tension between her brother and her youngest. She sat down next to Thorin, gathering her long, copper hair onto her back not to have it hanging onto the plate. She looked from Kíli to Thorin and back, both still staring at each other, then met her eldest son's gaze for a seconds before pouring ale into her cup just to seem unaffected.

"What's going on?"

"Yes, what _is_ going on, uncle?" repeated Kíli, annoyance on his voice. "What's wrong with the travelers?"

The reactions to Kíli's question were immediate, and he could feel it around him. Fíli leaned back slowly into his chair, eyes down, and their mother sighed quietly and looked to her brother, telling him wordlessly to say whatever it was Kíli did not know. The youngest Dwarf's temper cooled off considerably and he became curious. What was it about the caravan that made his family so uneasy, and why didn't he know about it?

Fíli sighed. "You haven't been into town lately, have you?"

No, he hadn't. He had little reason to go there unless sent on an errand by his mother. He was too young to work in the forges like his uncle, or take up apprenticeship like his brother. His training grounds lay outside of Ewardor, as did the homes of his friends. He hadn't been further into the city than the house since…

_"… s__ince the caravan arrived,"_ he thought.

The shadow of loathing could be seen in Thorin's face, but it wasn't directed at his nephew. "Since they arrived, there's been a several severe bar fights, with injured. Durin's Folk, mostly. They all claimed that they provoked and attacked… by newcomers. Not to mention they're disrespectful, sickening _urkhâs-_"

Dís shot Thorin a disapproving look, not wanting such terms to be used across the dinner table. He silenced immediately, but Kíli had already got the point. His head spun with thoughts - the looks of hatred he and his brother had got when leading the caravan to Ewardor, the attacks that his uncle spoke of. They didn't add up to Ric and his cheerful chattering or Dariah's friendliness and interest in his archery. They weren't the same, how could they be? Uncle Thorin generalized them all. How could he do that? It was too late for Kíli to calm himself down when he realized that Thorin's statement had angered him.

"It's true, Kíli," said Fíli matter-of-factly. "I've seen them in town, harassing our people. Never the Men, just us Dwar-"

"You're wrong."

Fíli fell silent and looked at his brother, puzzled. From across the table, Dís and Thorin shared his surprise. But Kíli just looked down onto his plate, breathing heavier than he should trying to compose himself. "You're all wrong, they're not like that. You don't know her!"

* * *

He hadn't shouted, he'd only raised his voice, but it had been enough. The moment Kili's voice had died out, Thorin's had awakened and it became time to evacuate. He'd left as soon as his uncle had opened his mouth to reprimand him. He didn't want to make matters any worse than he already had. He'd taken his boots and the training bow from the hall and just walked off down the road, heading nowhere. The air was cooling off now that the sun was hidden behind the great mountains, covering Ewardor in shadows. The path was chilly to his bare feet and he considered stopping to put on his boots, but couldn't find the will to slow down. A part of him, deep down, couldn't believe that he'd been so enraged. He'd felt like he needed to protect Dariah from Thorin's harsh words.

He took a deep breath. "_They haven't met her. They don't know how kind she is. Thorin doesn't know, or else he wouldn't say things like that. Urkhâs. Not Dariah, and not Ric._"

How his brother had not aided him in defending their names was beyond him. If Fíli got to meet Dariah, then he'd realize just how sweet she was. Maybe he should… but no. He wouldn't go back. Fíli wouldn't want to come with him anyway, not this late on a mid-week day when the caravan was on the other side of Ewardor. He kept half walking, half running up the darkening path, the slipstreams brushing through his shoulder-length hair. He knew where he was heading now, although his feet had decided for him a while back. This road tunneled under the Imril Peak, the southernmost part of the Blue Mountains around which Ewardor was built, a shortcut to the other side of the city. He hoped to talk to Ric. Maybe he could even find Dariah so that he could ask her.

He needed to be sure that what his brother and uncle had told him was not true.

The trees lining the road prevented the last of the dusk from illuminating it, but Kíli had walked down this path so many times he could probably make it in his sleep, if he hadn't already. The households he passed were as spots of warm light in the shadows of the mountain. When he rounded Imril Peak, the fires of the forges could be seen a yellow stars upon the mountainside, high above the city.

Had Kíli not been looking behind him to the forges, he might have missed the movement around the house he just passed.

He came to a dead stop in mid-pace, startled by what he saw. There were two, maybe three shadows lurking in the garden of the Dwarf residence, cloaked so that they were nearly invisible. Had he not been sure he'd seen them move just a moment ago, Kíli might have mistaken them for trees. But now they stood entirely still, only the soft summer wind disturbing their cloaks, and stared at the young Dwarf. Kíli put down his boots and his free hand went to his back, but his fingertips only brushed the fabric of the shirt where his quiver of arrows should have hung. Stupid! He had taken the bow with him but forgotten the arrows.

Through the darkness he could see light reflecting in the eyes of the closest figure when its hood moved in the wind. Although he couldn't identify their color, it felt like they could see every single detail in his own brown eyes. Kíli dared not move as long as the figures stood still, since he felt threatened by the cloaked Men. He was sure that they were Men, for no Dwarf stood at those heights and Elves did not come unexpected into Ewardor, least of all at night. It wasn't long before Kíli's suspicions were confirmed as a fourth shadow came out of the darkness and took four long strides toward the road.

"Leave, Dwarf-scum!" the new figure spat silently, just loud enough for Kíli to hear the assurance of pain should he not obey this order.

He moved slowly back the way he'd come, not turning his back until he could no longer make out the silhouettes of the mysterious Men. Then he started running, as fast as his bare feet could carry him, not realizing that his boots lay forgotten on the road where he'd dropped them. When he finally stopped he was half-way home again. He bent over, puffing and sweating. As his heart rate slowly returned to normal, Kíli thought of what he'd seen. He knew he recognized that fourth Man from somewhere, and he knew that he had heard that voice before…

Realization hit him like a blow to the back of his head, and it might as well have been. "_How could I have been so stupid?_" he blamed himself. "_Uncle Thorin and Fíli__… could they have been right?_"

That voice and the hatred in it, the pure disgust that had made Kíli feel so helpless, so worthless and _so utterly small_! He had never met anyone else like that, and it made sense although he didn't want it to. It could only have been _him_.

Beidon.

* * *

**So, after much work and a long time it's finally done! I worked my fingers off trying to get our favorite Dwarves in character during that fight, and developing Dariah was just hell, and don't ask me why because you'll know that soon enough. And yes, to those who read the first version of this story, I used the same text for the silhouette scene only I replaced Fíli with Kíli. I wasn't lazy, I just thought that it fit :)**

**So, how did I do? Please review and tell me what you think of the third, re-written chapter!**


	4. The Messenger

**PART ONE**

CHASE

* * *

**The Messenger**

* * *

The courtroom was stuffed with people, both sitting on the benches and standing by the walls. They were mostly locals, a mix of Dwarves and Men, but in the farthest corner stood a small group of newcomers, silently observing everything that happened. Thorin could clearly make out from his place in the front of the hall, facing the crowds, the hatred in their eyes when looking upon one of his people. He'd much like to pay them the same disrespect, but he had to keep his temper as the court proceedings were read aloud by Thaemir, the Human town master of Ewardor.

"… address the matter of last night's bar brawl … Darird from out of town, and Bofur from Ewardor … Durin's Folk representative Thorin Oakenshield…"

Thorin barely listened. His head was throbbing with tire. But he was focused, only not on Thaemir's words. He was trying to wrap his head around that Bofur, who he was here to represent and defend, was sitting in the chair as a suspect of having started a bar fight. Thorin had known Bofur and his brothers all their lives. They used to babysit his nephews and still took them out to hunt from time to time. Bofur was not someone who'd throw a punch without a very good reason. That, and the fact that Bofur was pretty beaten up while the newcomer who he was supposed to have fought hadn't a scratch on him, had Thorin convinced there was something off about the whole thing.

Next to Bofur sat Dwalin and looked up at his king. He caught Thorin's eye and confirmed wordlessly that they shared the same suspicions. Thorin had not yet been briefed on exactly what had happened last night. He had been home trying to talk to Kíli after the youngest Durin had marched through the door at midnight without as much as an explanation to where he'd been and why he looked like he'd seen a ghost. So many things seemed to be going on in the city right now, and Thorin felt that his presence was needed everywhere. He wanted to make sure Kíli was okay, but this was more urgent at the moment.

Darird gave his statement on what had happened at the Red Ranger Inn the night before, and he wasn't late on naming witnesses, all of which were newcomers, who could confirm that all guilt fall on the _dwarf-scum_ as he so coldly named Bofur. The middle-aged Dwarf only looked at the Man, shaking his head in shocked disagreement. Darird spoke as if re-telling a story, not the events of a fight while affected by alcohol. Bofur's version of the story, only confirmed by Dwalin who had been there to pull the younger Dwarf from Darird's choke hold, was more true to reality. Both he and Darird had had too much to drink, and when accidentally bumping into the newcomer while on his way out, Bofur had been thrown halfway across the room by the bulky Man and then attacked. He'd tried to defend himself but more people joined in and eventually Bofur had found himself on the floor with Darird's hands around his throat.

Darird interrupted Bofur in mid-sentence, standing up and pointing a finger at the Dwarf. "You speak only lies, you insolent…!"

Thaemir signaled to his Men to keep Darird down, and the newcomer sat down again, muttering something about getting revenge. Dwalin needed but a hand on Bofur's shoulder to make the Dwarf relax and remain quiet.

"You have done nothing wrong, Bofur," said the older Dwarf reassuringly. "We'll see this through-"

Suddenly, the doors to the court hall flew open with a loud bang and everybody silenced at once. A helmeted Dwarf rider astride a sweaty, dirty pony rode straight through room and stopped in front of a very surprised Thaemir. The puffing Dwarf removed his helmet, letting out a soaked load of thin braids the same ashen color as the braided beard, and bowed to each of the court members, and just slightly deeper for his king, Thorin.

"What's this?" asked Thaemir, annoyed at having his court meeting be interrupted. "Who are you?"

Thorin recognized the face of his kin at first sight. "This is Híri," he introduced the Dwarf while Híri still tried to catch his breath. "He's of the Durin's Folk, a swords-master in the service of Drebur in Narendor."

"Oh," said Thaemir softly and gave Híri a nod. "And what may a swords-master from Narendor find so important he must march into the court unexpected?"

"I'm-" Híri took a deep breath to be able to speak up. "I bring an urgent message from the Durin's Folk representative of Narendor for Thorin Oakenshield." Then he turned his full attention to Thorin, giving him a very distressed look. "A _very_ urgent message."

Thorin frowned. Then he turned to meet Thaemir's light brown gaze and asked for permission to let the court rest for just a few minutes. Thaemir was not pleased, but granted the request with a nod of his head. Thorin turned to Híri. "Go on."

"I am to inform the king of our people that a total number of eighteen members of the Durin's Folk have gone missing over the past few days from within Narendor's borders. My lord Drebur has requested your presence and your help."

* * *

A silence only broken by the soft whispers of the wind outside lay inside the Durins' stable. Fíli was helping his brother fasten the last of their uncle's gear to Minty's saddle, conversing only between blue and brown eyes. Kíli had forgotten all about last night's fight. They were both heavy at heart, distressed by the horrible news from Narendor. They wanted to know if their good friend Ori and his two older brothers, all of who resided in Narendor, were all right. Of the eighteen Dwarves that had been confirmed missing, Híri had only named eight. Fíli and Kíli had already asked twice to join the party which would travel south to aid Drebur in the search, to make sure that Ori, Dori and Nori were not among the other ten. Thorin had refused them. To let Kíli come was out of the question, he'd said, and having Fíli stay was just a matter of not leaving the rest of the family unprotected. This, of course, was only half the truth. The moment Dís had learned that her sons wanted to come with Thorin she'd put her foot down.

A shadow moved in the darkness outside the stable doors, revealing to the brothers that their uncle was still within hearing range. Fíli shot Kíli a worried look. Thorin had barely spoken a word after telling his family about Híri's message, a constant frown upon his face. Fíli and Kíli knew that he was troubled, and wanted to disturb him as little as they could while still being helpful.

Kíli took the reins from his brother and led the brown pony outside to where Thorin was waiting. The older Dwarf tightened his chest belt from which his sword hung heavy. From the waist belt hung a small dagger. Although there wasn't much light, the hilt of an axe could be seen behind Thorin's coat. Kíli eyed this piece of weaponry, worry in the younger's thoughts. These disappearances were disturbing enough without his uncle needing this many weapons for a simple search and rescue. There was something that Thorin was not telling them, of that he was sure.

"I do not know how long I'll be gone," said Thorin matter-of-factly. He took the reins that Kíli held out and briefly inspected his nephews' work before mounting. Minty remained calm and still, completely used to Thorin's weight on her back. "I will send a message when I find Ori, I promise."

They said goodbye and Kíli walked back towards the stable. He looked back questioningly when Fíli did not follow him, but when neither his brother nor uncle said anything, Kíli frowned just slightly and vanished into the stable.

"Are you sure you won't need me, uncle?" asked Fíli gravely when sure that Kíli could no longer hear him. He tried not to sound pleading, for he knew that this mission would need grown and able Dwarves, not younglings eager to prove themselves. He did not know which of these Thorin considered him, or Kíli, to be.

"Just stay here and keep an eye on your mother and Kíli for me. Keep him away from those newcomers. There's something not right about them. I will not have either of you getting into a fight with them like Bofur did, understood?"

Fíli buried his disappointment, but shouldered the responsibility put on him with pride. "Understood."

With that, Thorin rode off towards the city to join with Dwalin and his party. Fíli looked at his disappearing silhouette for just a moment before he walked back into the stable, unaware that his little brother had heard every single word they'd spoken from inside.

They finished up cleaning the stable and Minty's box in silence. Kíli shot angry glances at his brother when the elder's back was turned. He felt betrayed. How could their uncle have asked Fíli to keep an eye on him like as if he was some worthless Dwarfling who could not take care of himself?

"_He doesn't have the right to tell me who I can and can't meet_," Kíli thought furiously. "_He is not my father!_"

He hated himself for thinking like that, but for the moment he was just too upset not to. Not only had his uncle said those things - his own brother had agreed to them. They did everything together, never hid anything from one another. Yet now Fíli was standing there rinsing Minty's water bucket without saying anything of what Thorin had told him.

Kíli put away the pitchfork he'd used to bring hay to the other ponies and stormed out the stable as calmly as he could manage. "I'll be right back," he lied when Fíli asked where he was going. Actually he planned to let Fíli finish the stable chores by himself since he thought Kíli couldn't handle himself anyway.

It was quite warm out tonight - even the winds were warm. No cool breeze to help calm Kíli down, no Thorin to play mature and deliberate in front of, no Fíli to express his feelings to. He could let his emotions out with some archery, but then he'd have to fetch his bow and arrows inside, and he'd have to lie to his mother when she asked if they were done in the stable. He would not let his annoyance go out on her.

Something behind him caught his attention. He stopped in mid-pace, startled by the sound that had been almost like a whisper. He spun around, searching for the source of it.

"Kíli."

Louder this time, he could make out the voice. It came from the road, but he couldn't see anyone. He knew he'd heard that voice somewhere before.

"Kíli!"

_Dariah._

Almost as if she knew he'd guessed it was her, Dariah came out from behind the tree where she had been hidden. She was wearing a dark cape that made her almost invisible against the dark surroundings, and underneath it a masculine rider's outfit almost entirely made of leather. Her eyes stood out brightly now that he knew it was her, blue like an ocean in a shadowed face.

The sound of Fíli working in the stable awakened Kíli from the shock of Dariah's sudden appearance, but they were too far away for Fíli to hear them whispering.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, smiling as he was happy to see her.

Dariah looked suspiciously towards the stable for a short moment, then turned back to Kíli and held out her gloved hand to the surprised Dwarf. "Come with me. I must show you something."

Kíli's heart skipped a beat and his youthful curiosity set in. For the briefest of moments he hesitated, knowing that him disappearing this late at night would worry his mother. If Thorin wasn't on his way to Narendor at the moment, he'd definitely disapprove. But Kíli was still enraged by what they had said about him. He could very well take care of himself. Dariah was not a bad person, she was kind and friendly. She was nothing like the newcomers who had attacked Bofur. She wouldn't go uninvited into a garden in the middle of the night. She wasn't _Beidon_.

He looked at her outstretched hand, considered the offering. She smiled so kindly, her eyes glistening with excitement and reflecting his own curiosity. She seemed to read him again, willing him to come with her.

He suddenly realized that he liked this woman.

He stepped forward and took her hand. She pulled him onto the road and headed away from Ewardor and the Durin home, Kíli following her as best as he could. He felt a rush of adrenalin in his veins, his heart beating faster. His dark clothes and raven hair gave him cover in the darkness the same way Dariah's cloak concealed her. They were but shadows running down the path, passed houses and gardens. Kíli wondered if he'd made the right choice, remembering what his uncle had told him about the newcomers, but seeing Dariah - tall, beautiful and _so enchanting_ - he just felt so happy. He couldn't wrap his head around when he'd started longing for her company so much - they'd barely known each other for two days. There was just something about her that pulled him in. She was…

… choking him?

"_What is happening!? Dariah!_"

He was thinking those desperate calls, but no sound could escape his throat. The scene had changed so fast he could barely make out where he was anymore. The ground had been swept away from underneath his feet, all air forced out of his lungs. It burned his chest to try and breath and it was hopeless. It felt like he was flying, but at the same time his torso was being crushed like as if caught underneath a landslide. He tried to get free, but his arms were stuck to his sides. His forehead hurt, the scalp feeling like it was being pulled off his scull. Sight was a matter of definition - he could see, but what he saw was only darkness and dim light in a spinning blur.

"_I'm being attacked. Held up in the air. Dariah. Is she okay? Are they hurting her!?_"

He fought harder, only to be crushed even more by whoever the strong arms that held him up belonged to. All of a sudden, his mouth and throat were forced wide open. He pulled a rasping breath, filling his lungs with much-needed air. The relief was brief, though. Something was poured down his throat, and it burned. Oh, it burned so bad, like liquid fire streaming slowly over his tongue and down into his chest. The pain was white hot, blinding him with excruciating pain. He wanted to scream but his vocal cords had caught fire.

"_Make it stop! Please, Mahal, make it stop!_" he pleaded voicelessly.

Something or someone headed his prayers. In a flash, all pain numbed away and he felt for a second's eternity that he was falling before everything went black.


End file.
